Quotes About Tears

So lonely, so trapped within his own cocoon that he can't even cry without a spectator to appreciate the effort it takes to shed a tear onstage.

I always try to balance the light with the heavy - a few tears of human spirit in with the sequins and the fringes.

Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.

The judge arrived half an hour later with the file he had collected from his office on the way, signed several papers, had Sam sign them, the matron witness them; Josh cried, Norm cried, she cried, the judge grinned, and Timmie waved his teddy bear at the judge with a broad grin as they wheeled into the elevator. So long! he shouted, and when the doors closed, the judge was laughing and crying too.

here." "Yeah," she said, as tears rolled down her cheeks again, "and you love Liz too. I could see it." She started to sob then and buried her face in his

maybe one day we all had wings and one day we'll all have wings again. D'you think the baby had wings? Oh, I'm sure that one had wings. Just got to take one look at her. Sometimes I think she's never quite left Heaven and never quite made it all the way here to Earth. She smiled, but there were tears in her eyes. Maybe that's why she has such trouble staying here, she said.

Dreadful doubt and anguish - prayers and fears and griefs unspeakable - followed the regiment. It was the women's tribute to the war. It taxes both alike, and takes the blood of the men, and the tears of the women.

Which of the dead are most tenderly and passionately deplored? Those who love the survivors the least, I believe. The death of a child occasions a passion of grief and frantic tears, such as your end, brother reader, will never inspire. The death of an infant which scarce knew you, which a week's absence from you would have caused to forget you, will strike you down more than the loss of your closest friend, or your first-born son – a man grown like yourself, with children of his own.

which among you does not know and suffer under such benevolent despots? It is in vain you say to them, 'Dear madam, I took Podgers' specific at your orders last year, and believe in it. Why, why, am I to recant and accept the Rodger's articles now?' There is no help for it; the faithful proselytizer, if she cannot convice by argument, bursts into tears, and the recusant finds himself, at the end of the conteest, taking down the bolus, and saying, 'Well, well, Rodger's be it.

Oh, John, you're a great father, but you don't understand kids. I've worked in hospitals with kids like Jennifer. Kids that were terminal. They had it figured out long before their parents could admit it to themselves." "She is not terminal," he snarled, glaring at Makala angrily. She said nothing. "Damn you, no." He was humiliated by the tears that suddenly clouded his vision. He struggled to choke back the sobs that now overwhelmed him.

I thought a fellow would never cry when he got to be a grown up, but it seems as if that's when a fellow starts, because that's when a fellow starts finding out things.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears; What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; For now hath time made me his numbering clock: My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart, Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans Show minutes, times, and hours.

How does he love me? With adoration, with fertile tears, With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.

Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale: When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears and seem to weep with me; And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these.

My drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire.

Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly; it strikes where it doth love.

Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery, for where a heart is hard they make no battery.

There's some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords, I am not prone to weeping, as our sex Commonly are; the want of which vain dew Perchance shall dry your pities: but I have That honourable grief lodged here which burns Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords, With thoughts so qualified as your charities Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so The king's will be perform'd!

Why, such is love's transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz.

Each substance of grief hath twenty shadows, which shows like grief itself, but is not so; or sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, divides one thing entire to many objects: like perspectives which, rightly gaz'd upon, show nothing but confusion:

These are the ushers of Martius: before him He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears. Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie, Which being advanc'd, declines, and then men die.

And Sir, it is no little thing to make mine eyes to sweat compassion.